


Love, Lust, & Legends

by TheAdamantDaughter



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: F/M, NSFW, Zutara, Zutara Week 2016, zkweek, zkweek 2016
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-13
Updated: 2016-09-03
Packaged: 2018-08-08 14:43:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 6,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7761958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheAdamantDaughter/pseuds/TheAdamantDaughter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And so it was, that sultry words skated across the high vaulted ceiling, catching his hard-won attention from the parchment in his hands.</p>
<p>"There's a tale, my love..." She appeared around the towering bookcases, graceful steps carrying her across the distance between them, "...of a woman."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Day 1 - Dragons

It was a late, chilly night, with a midnight blue set beyond the stained glass windows. Upon the horizon, so far in the distance the earth seemed to curve, he could make out the sentry flames of Azulon's gates. They guarded his harbor, his land - not that there was a need for guardians anymore. That time had passed. Still, the steady flickers brought him a sense of peace as no moon shone to light his path into the quiet corners of palace library.

It was on nights like these, when the world was still and settled, when only the twinkling dance of stars amidst scattered clouds illuminated the sky, that he assumed nothing could wake his beloved. For every other twilight, when the moon was bright and wide and covered the land in its blue haze, she was as restless as the sea. It was on nights like these, that she could no longer outrun the lull of sleep.

But he should've known, given the constant homeostasis between them,  _the balance,_  that his unusual absence from their bed would draw her to him. He should've known… she'd  _ **always**_ find him.

And so it was, that sultry words skated across the high vaulted ceiling, catching his hard-won attention from the parchment in his hands.

"There's a tale, my love..." She appeared around the towering bookcases, graceful steps carrying her across the distance between them, "...of a woman."

The blue linen that embraced her shoulders, accentuated her delicate waist, caught the flashing flame of the lantern. It was nearly sheer, a fact not at all lost to him as slender fingers tugged the scroll free of his own. Amber eyes traveled up her body - strong legs and full hips and the slightest hint of dusty peaks through the flowing gown.

He forced his gaze to hers, finding himself intrigued by whatever game she was playing. "I assume you're planning to elaborate."

"The Dragon Empress-" she eluded, seeing his curiosity peak, "she was a beautiful woman, wouldn't you say?"

"She was," he murmured, now grasping her wrists in warm palms. She gave into him - if only for this fleeting moment - and prodded his knees apart with her own. She came to stand between his thighs, looking down upon where he sat. Not letting the chance to touch her disappear, his hands grazed up bare arms, down her chest brazenly, cupping with a building hunger, only to settle at the hollow of her waist.  _How many different ways had he held this waist?_

He leaned forward, eyes forever locked on hers, and bowed his lips to her navel. There, he kissed across, nuzzling her warmth and inhaling that mix of rain and pine that fogged his mind. He paused, his mouth parted against her skin, "But I only know the illustrations of my youth."

"Your youth…" Her pink lips twitched with the slightest hint of a smile, for the story she wished to tell was far different from the legends of his childhood. Tenderly, but with all the hypnotic power of a tempest, she tilted his chin back. Her thumb traced over the plush lines of his mouth, "It's been years since you were a boy, but perhaps you remember, she was oft likened to the sea."

He kissed the pad of her finger, his own gripping the sheer fabric at her hips. "She has a beauty that is unmatched, eyes of which the depths are untold… and an intoxicating energy, that is unfathomed."

"She rules the skies, with the might of a thousand fires." Her nails raked into his hair, then her touch softened, carefully cording through the long raven locks. "And she commands the waves with the power of a thousand dragons."

Whatever held her back before… it broke. Her dress fell loose, fluttering down around her feet. Her hair cascaded in chocolate waves, framing her face. Her body, naked and bare and beautiful, crashed into his. And all her talk of power was upheld. For with her lips upon him, her weight atop him, she held every part of him to her whims.

She ordered his mouth be on her, so it was, tasting the dip of her collarbones and the valley between her breasts. She asked his skin be free, so it was, revealing itself as she stripped away fabric and exposed hardened ivory to the stars. She demanded his body take hers, so it did, palms exploring her curves, fingers teasing between her thighs,  _him -_ pressing inside.

A satisfied sigh befell her lips, a name escaping from her tongue, ' _Zuko.'_

' _Katara,'_  he answered, palming her breasts, teeth marring her neck. ' _My love...'_

And she continued her tale, their hips moving in time, fingertips tracing paths across limbs, and tongues drinking in the lust on the other's skin. "She bows to no ruler. She gives in to no man. She's made weak by none… save for one. A young lord."

The admission, the vulnerability as small as it was, set his blood aflame. Her name and all its variations, all the ways he had of calling to her, they filled the air. Fire ignited inside him, inside her, emboldening him, enthralling her. He became the one with the power, the strength, and she fell against him with a sharp cry, no longer the empress of which she spoke, but solely  _his._

When her fingers' path reached the starburst between his ribs, her movements slowed, words whispering to him. "Her lover… he's always marked… tattooed by a love that transcends time."

He pressed his lips to hers, drawing what pleasure remained in the moment with a final embrace, "She always finds him."

"An empress…" she spoke, her forehead now against his, "...and her king."


	2. Reincarnation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A tremulous sigh escaped her, evaporating in the space between their lips, "The first and the greatest. The spirits came to her in a dream, asking her to school the generations to come. Her breoal, her family, was to be the stars. Her kingdom was to be all the lands the lights touched. But she had to take on a new name, a new identity no one of her past would remember her."
> 
> "Hvitr Islingr," he murmured, the name on his lips as if the legend was his own, "the white light."

The South Pole was hers, despite recent years calling her far away and even more recent months giving her a new land. And while that land, a land of fire and heat, was his- she had a way there. Many cursed its sweltering sun. She welcomed it. Many damned its political hitches. She lived for the adventure. She adapted and thrived and bewitched the heart of the man who ruled it.

And now he was here. Far away from his home, but still equally settled and safe. It was his second visit of his short twenty one years, and even with all he'd uncovered -all he'd destroyed- when he first came, he'd never noticed... As enraptured as she was by the red and the gold and  _him_ _,_ she had a way here too.

A way that was invigorating and intoxicating, a way that mesmerized him like his dragon's scales in the sunrise.

As easily as she governed within his red walls, reigned over his volcanic lands… she ruled here. The land of ice. She was surrounded by her element, mirrored for her natural state of unsuspecting prowess and deceptive safety. She  _was_ this land, she was a part of it as it was a part of her, and she knew it like she'd lived a thousand years.

She understood that any moment could bring awe- brilliant white lands clashing with bright skies, blue sails blending with a blue sea, and the benders… they told of a grace he would never possess. But for every second of undeniable beauty, there lurked a deadly current. The ice could trap you. The snow could freeze you. The cold sun and bitter nights… they could end you.

She was never afraid- something he observed as she lead them across the tundra. She was fearless, proud, confident. She walked effortlessly, bended enchantingly... held his attention like a dream. His gaze hardly left her, not since they'd married and certainly not since their arrival here. For how could he look away from someone so full of life, and whose eyes filled him to the brim with so much blue? 

Now they rested together, a measured distance from the bustle of the tribe, where she'd surprised him with an igloo of their own. It was as clear as glass, exposing the world beyond the barrier to their curious gaze, and dark but for the intermittent breaths of fire that escaped him.

The outside world was lovely, hypnotic in the way the wind brushed snow over amassed drifts, but he was affixed by the reflection of her in the glass. She was between his legs, her back to his chest as to steal the warmth from his skin. Furs enveloped them like a cocoon, and it was with his chin on her shoulder, his arms around her, that her words reached him.

"Atra du evarinya ono vara," she murmured, blue eyes cast up to a sky that beheld marvelous depths. Then a smile lifted her lips, as vibrant as the northern lights. "The sea is its only rival, for the sea holds mystery and darkness and power, while this southern midnight is splayed open with ribbons of green and the stars map its every inch."

He'd normally respond to her, telling her ' _The sky has never known the magnificence of you, and the sea… it's not so divine, that it would be better for me.'_ But that was not his answer.

For in the moment, the words skittered through his mind, syllables that dripped in a wash of mystery and a cadence… that fell so musically from her tongue. Sounds that seemed so familiar. His lips brushed her ear, "May the stars watch over you."

The goddess nestled in his arms stirred. A breathless whisper reached him, with wonderstruck eyes alighting as a golden flare flashed among the sky's dancing veins, "What did you say?"

"That's what it means. That's what you said."

She turned sideways between his thighs, a perplexed looking knitting her brows together, "How did you know?"

"It's the language of old… of the spirits." He paused for a heartbeat, taking the second of silence to tug the furs up around her shoulders once more. "I- I don't- how do you know it?"

"Ellesmera," she admitted, now drawing the blankets up to her chin. There was a slight shake to her hands, though not because she was cold or afraid. It was pure energy, like some thread of truth had been illuminated to her. "It's from the legend of Ellesmera, the first moon spirit."

He tasted the name on his tongue, feeling a vague sense of… he couldn't name it. "Ellesmera."

"Yes." She drew closer to him, so her forehead was against his and her arms embraced him as she spoke, "She was a queen, _drottning_  as the Old speakers would say, a queen of these lands and the first of her kind."

"A waterbender, you mean?"

A tremulous sigh escaped her, evaporating in the space between their lips, "The first and the greatest. The spirits came to her in a dream, asking her to school the generations to come. Her  _breoal_ , her family, was to be the stars. Her kingdom was to be all the lands the lights touched. But she had to take on a new name, a new identity- no one of her past would remember her."

"Hvitr Islingr," he murmured, the name on his lips as if the legend was his own, "the white light."

"The moon."

Her hand came up from beneath the woven furs, running along the outline of his jaw and the edges of his scar. He swore she was learning him, recognizing him… given the astonished wonderment in her eyes.

With the clash of their breath, the cloudy fog puffing between them and holding them entranced but for a stammering heartbeat, their lips met as if they knew. Clothes were pulled away, under their blanket of warmth, and her mouth claimed him just as he claimed her. Her hands explored him, marked him, liberated him. 

But when her palms halted above his chest, hovering above the pulse of his life, he pulled back. It was his turn to speak, and he did so with careful caresses of her cheek.

"In the Fire Nation," he gasped, his words catching with an all too powerful tightening in his lungs, we tell the story of Aiedail, the morning star. He was the first firebender and the first spirit of the sun. He ruled the skies for ages, chasing and chasing…"

"Chasing who? What happened to him?"

"Agni succeeded him…" He tugged his fingers free of her hair, clasping hers where they rested over his heart. Together, their hands came to lay over the red stain on his chest. "Because he died for her."

Wild eyes locked with his, a blue so pained and desperate he had to close his own. "They're not together?"

He brushed chocolate waves from her face, spreading the locks on the pillow like a halo. He reached up for her lips, tracing the full pink lines with all the reverence of a god. How lucky he was to have found these lips. "Aiedail was reborn… and every life he lived, he was cursed to look for her. It's believed that when he finds her, he'll be set free by-"

"Yawe wyrda… a bond of fate." She finished for him, clinging to him tightly. "He'll be set free by a bond of fate. That's what my tribe used to call a marriage, when we spoke the Old."

A heavy nod moved him and he repeated her words back, " _Yawe wyrda."_

Then their mouths collided once more, like lovers rejoined after a countless new moons. The air filled with tension, with touches, with tremors. Freed flesh, branded skin… and a new-claimed certainty that they were fate incarnate. She was the light of his night, his  _Hvitr Islinr_. Sailors, warriors, hunters - they may all rely on the stars to navigate their lives, but he relied on her.

They rose and fell together, giving and taking and pushing and pulling, like the bodies of the heavens did each morn and every nigh. And, he learned, from the way his name rolled off her tongue, that he was her sun, her  _Aiedail._

Finally, when soft cries gave way to whispered sighs, she lifted her head from the dip of his shoulder, "It can't be true, can it? It's just a legend."

He didn't answer, still lost in the warmth that she brought, a warmth he'd never known until her. Then he offered a promise, the phrase that accompanied her own. "Atra esterni ono thelduin, Katara. May good fortune rule over you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to Christopher Paolini, author of The Inheritance Cycle (Eragon, Eldest, Brisingr, and Inheritance) for his beautiful work and his creation of The Ancient Language.


	3. Day 3: Memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zuko attempted to steal a kiss, but her hand caught his jaw, holding him just beyond the warmth of her mouth. He nearly groaned, "I assume I'm being punished for something."
> 
> "It was on this day, six years ago, that the temperamental Prince of Fire tied a certain waterbender to tree… was it not?"
> 
> "It was…" He brushed his thumbs beneath the lace at her thighs, her words alighting his skin. They no longer carried the sharp sting of betrayal or bitterness, rather, her tongue sparked him with need. "In my defense, my lady, you look glorious with rope against your skin."

"You were searching then, for your honor– tell me, Fire Lord, how does it feel to have it now?"

Katara captured his breath with a kiss, stealing it as if it were never his with a gesture as simple as a caress down his chest. Her eyes danced delightedly, wild- with that fire that he wielded and the fire that so possessed her soul.

Beneath her oceanic blues, roguish lips curved, "Are you going to answer the question, love, or just _stare?_ "

The flames that surrounded his golden throne cast asymmetric patterns over her skin, over the burgundy lace that clung jealously to her curves. As much as he envied the lace, for it freely touched her hips, her stomach, her breasts, he could not fault it. _For who or what would not want for her beauty?_

Alabaster fingers rose from the ornate gold of the throne, flying to her thighs, sending unspoken pleas for her to step closer. And as Katara obliged, coming between his legs, eyes as gold as the fire around them found hers. "Whatever _honor_ I found, it was because of you."

"Flattery, then… that's what you use to avoid your fate?"

"No- I'm _enticing_ my fate, whatever my queen deems it to be."

 _"Your queen?"_ A laugh danced in Katara's throat, carried to him by warm breath that brushed his ear. Her lips followed, dragging from lobe to lips like she'd never tasted his skin before. "If only you'd been this… acquiescing at sixteen."

Zuko attempted to steal a kiss, but her hand caught his jaw, holding him just beyond the warmth of her mouth. He nearly groaned, "I assume I'm being punished for something."

"It was on this day, six years ago, that the temperamental Prince of Fire tied a certain waterbender to tree… was it not?"

"It was…" He brushed his thumbs beneath the lace at her thighs, her words alighting his skin. They no longer carried the sharp sting of betrayal or bitterness, rather, her tongue sparked him with need. "In my defense, my lady, you look glorious with rope against your skin."

"I imagine you do too."

"Is that what you want?"

Katara released his chin, her fingers dragging once more over the red robes covering his chest. Then she waltzed from his reach, her hips sashaying far more than was necessary… but he knew it was meant for him. She threw an elusive grin over her shoulder, "What do I want… I want you bare- _now."_

Normally, such a request from her would lead to a scattered mess of red and blue fabric within seconds, but half the fun was watching her watch him. Zuko rose from the throne, his eyes on her as he worked the clasp at his throat loose. "As you wish, love."

"Queen," Katara demanded, facing him once more. Her lips parted barely, eyes burning with the same desire that scorched his blood. "I'm your queen."

He bowed his head, his lips forming the title - _my Queen_ \- and then curling into a smirk. His fingers moved down his front, and her gaze followed, devouring every inch of ivory skin as it was exposed. Taut muscles and carved lines and his more than obvious desire for _her_ … When the royal attire fluttered to the floor and he was left tugging at the waistline of his pants with his bottom lip between his teeth, all pretense disappeared.

Long brown legs closed the steps between them and slender fingers wove into his hair. She gripped his raven locks tightly, holding his mouth against hers, taking what she wanted of his lips and his tongue. And then her hands were gone, ghosting over his shoulders, his arms, his hips, meeting his fingers at his trousers and ripping the fabric down.

" _God damn,_ Zuko." The curse escaped her as quickly as that roguish blush flooded her cheeks, and in an instant, Katara was on her knees before him. She stroked him playfully - one, two, three times - then her tongue flicked out between plump lips, lapping over the tip. "Already _so hard_ for me."

No response came from him, unless she considered the harsh hiss from between his teeth a response, for that's all he gave when her mouth enveloped him. _"…Kat-"_

A hum was her only acknowledgement… as she licked the length of him, washed him with studied drags of her tongue, pumped him with talented fingers. He couldn't tear his eyes from her. Her lips took him, her hands worked him. He was a groaning mess, his breath on fire, his limbs trembling. He was close, within seconds, his fingers moving to her hair to keep her there, "Kat, I'm com-"

The words hadn't left his mouth when she pulled away, all too soon but _just_ when he needed her to. Those glistening blue eyes, somehow still so wide and innocent, found his and Katara smiled, "That wouldn't do, now would it?"

Zuko barely shook his head, incapable of anything but ragged pants. Her palms pressed against his thighs, sending him back a few steps as she rose. "Sit, Fire Lord."

His naked back fell upon the throne, though he was too transfixed by her to notice the cold metal. He swallowed, drinking her in like she was a fine wine. Though his lungs faltered and his pulse quickened, as if she was a toxin, burning up his life.

She was his poison of choice. She always had been. Even with her whispered words _-I am yours-_ every dawn and every dusk, there was the forever lingering truth… _He was hers._

Katara paced towards him slowly. Rich brown waves accented her collarbones. Her lips carried the hint of a smile. Her hands - the left bearing his ring - skimmed from her shoulders over her breasts to her legs. She tugged the red fabric up and the light of the fires danced across her bare skin.

He'd seen her a thousand times, but it was never enough. He'd memorized all of her, from the dusty peaks of her breasts to the thatch of hair between her thighs, but the memories were _nothing_ when compared to this. He wanted her, _needed her_ , like flames needed air. Zuko reached for her, a palm on her waist and the other on her breast.

In that moment, he thought he had the control. For she came upon him, straddling him, her legs on either side of his, and his name fell from her lips as he cupped her breasts, her hips grinding- his tongue exploring every inch exposed to him. But with her, the control was always fleeting.

He growled when she licked his neck, suckling the pulse just below his ear. He thrust upwards when her hand came between them, teasing and toying with him. He was hers again.

"Do you remember," Katara murmured, her forehead to his. She tugged his fingers from her breast, down to the apex of her thighs. He dipped into her folds - _that slick heat that drove him mad_ \- circling her clit slowly. She rocked against his palm, unable to contain the moan in her throat, " _Mmm…_ Zuko, tell me, do you remember that day? Do you remember how desperately you wanted me to beg?"

"I never asked you to beg, love."

Katara quirked a brow and brushed his fingers away as her hips aligned with his. She sank down, letting him fill her, but it wasn't enough, just these light, fluttering thrusts that left him nearly blind with fire and lust. _"Try to understand… I need to restore something I've lost- my honor. Perhaps I can restore something you've lost."_

"Word for word?" Zuko grasped at her waist, trying and trying to find to more friction, more heat… more of her. _"Agni-_ you're so wet. Please."

"My my, how the tables have turned." Her lips fell on his, their tongues tangling for all the breadth of a heartbeat. "Beg me, darling… plead with me."

He lapped at a nipple, "A Fire Lord does not beg."

"Oh?" The look in her eye should've warned him of trouble, for one second she'd thrust down hard and quick, feeling all of him, letting him feel all of her, then she was gone. Katara sauntered away, down the steps of the throne before he could blink. "That's too bad."

The absence of her was almost painful, staggering… but not so much that he missed her reaching the council's table. She faced away from him, her palms spread flat on the mahogany surface, her back arched and her hips hitched so perfectly for him. Blue eyes glanced over a toned, brown shoulder. "Are you sure about that?"

 _"Fuck,"_ Zuko hissed under his breath, now following her path to the table. Heated fingers trailed down her spine and his free hand landed on her ass with a slap. The red rushing to the surface of her skin was all it took. "Fuck, Katara, _please._ Please, I'm begging you."

"Was that so hard?"

He silenced her with another smack, one that brought a fresh flush of color and a breathy moan from her throat, then his body slammed into hers. The wet warmth of her was all that consumed his mind, the sheen of sweat and lust on her skin driving him wild. His knees pushed her legs wider. His hands dragged her hips closer to his. And curses and grunts mixed with her name.

She knew just how to set him aflame, how to ignite his blood. When Zuko bowed his lips to her neck, she locked her fingers in his hair. And when his teeth sank into her skin, claiming her as his own, Katara brought his hand to her clit.

"Zuko…" His name fell from her tongue, the syllables violent and wild like their combined elements. Her breaths were quick, her hips meeting his thrust for thrust, until one final command hung in the air, "Come on, love. Come with me."

 _"Kat…"_ He answered, growling and slipping from her completely before ramming back in. _Hard._ Her name hissed between his teeth again, low and breathy, "Fuck, you're _so_ fucking wet."

Her eyes fluttered shut. _Another rock of his hips, erratic and crazed. Another needy sigh from her._

With the pleasure building, their bodies moving - in and out, skin meeting skin - it was impossible to tell where one ended and the other began. Hot lips traveled across her back, fingers linked together, and a few violent thrusts were all it took. A quick drag of his fingers over her clit and Katara came, cursing his name as he followed.

To him, it felt like a wildfire, " _F-fuck…_ fuck, Katara."

They collapsed forward atop the table, his chest pressed to her back and his face buried in her shoulder. Both were left gasping, and silent but for the stray moan or whisper. When he did pull away, Zuko wished for a bed to topple into with her, somewhere he could hold her and waste away the day, but he settled for a nearby chair.

He sank down, lethargic and satiated, with her sideways on his lap and his arms around her waist. "You do remember, my Queen," he murmured with a kiss to her ear, "that while I tied you to a tree, you _encased_ me in ice. I think that makes us even."

Katara laughed quietly, "In my defense, you look glorious surrounded by blue."


	4. Day 4: Lilac

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A brief sneak peek of a moment to come in The Rising...

Wild lilac bushes grow all over the Fire Nation - in my gardens, in deserted fields, even here on Ember Island. They’re lovely, free and… innocent if flowers can be such a thing. But as beautiful as the flowers are, lilacs have never been my favorite. They remind me too much of the past. Bouquets once adorned my mother’s suite, crowned her raven locks, perfumed the very essence of the air about her. She’d sit with me near the turtle duck pond, braiding them into Azula’s hair while I chattered away about Dao lessons and Uncle’s selections for music night. It’s too much to bear… all these memories that arise from something as simple as a flower.

No… lilacs have never been my favorite. _Until I met her._

She’d waltzed into my life at sixteen, dressed in the blues and purples that haunt me. _The colors of lilacs._ Instead of the sharp jab of things lost, the jab I’d grown to accustomed to whenever the sweet scent of the flowers crosses my path, I’d felt… hope. Suddenly, lilacs became more than a haunting past. They became a promise of the future. And if I could find new meaning in  my memories of lilacs, surely I could find new meaning in my life.

_Like everything good, I’d nearly ruined that._ One regrettable decision amidst green-hued stalagmite, and the blue of her eyes and the purple trim on her tunic once again embodied memories that I hated.

_An apology. A mission. A hug. **Lightning**._ Fate granted us so many chances…

I scan over the letter in my hands. The edges curl in the sea breeze, blocking the first paragraph of neat text on the tattered page, but I don’t need to see it to know what’s written. I’ve read the same seventeen lines a hundred times, and every pass of my eyes over the words tells me the same thing.

“Zuko?” My name drifts across the sand, carried by lapping waves and nearly drowned by squawking gulls. Katara _\- my Katara -_ is pacing down the beach from my family’s vacation home. She’s adorned in red, the color so rich against her dark skin, and around her neck is a promise. _My promise._

I throw her half a smile and quickly crumple the letter into a tight fist, “Sorry, Kat… I didn’t wake you, did I?”  

She shakes her head. “The empty bed woke me. Why are you up so early?”  

“I rise with the sun.”

Katara glances out over the sea, a singular brow twitching at the barely there rays of pink and gold. “Something’s bothering you,” she mutters. Her hand comes up around my waist, her head against my chest, and for a moment, I let myself forget that she’s right and focus only on the sweet scent of her hair.

When her eyes flutter shut, I shove the wadded parchment in my pocket. It carries all the weight of a warship… and the same deadly bite. “I’ll figure it out. You know I love you, right?”

“I do.” Bright blue eyes widen and she searches my face. “I love you, too.”

“Good.”

_I should know, given my luck, nothing_ good _ever lasts._


	5. Day 5: Fever

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This wasn't meant for Zutara Week at first, but I got a little behind, and I felt this short blurb fit Fever well. Enjoy.

" _Mmm,_ that feels good." She groaned, her neck exposed to heated lips that marked tender skin. His teeth drug from her collarbone to her jaw, his tongue washing away the offense with a growl. His weight pinned her to the wall, his hands stripped her of her clothes, fingers touching and teasing sensitive flesh. Trailing up her thighs, tracing across her breasts, traveling down her stomach.

Her hips rocked against him, her body pleading for more… more of that delicious friction _.._. _more of him._ "Please, Zuko…"

" _…Agni,_ when you beg me…"

He tugged her from the wall. Papers scattered to the floor around them, gone from the surface of his desk with a sweep of his hand, and her hips were forced against it, her shoulders pressed down to the cool mahogany. If only she'd caught her breath in the moment of reprieve, for his mouth collided with hers once more, taking and tasting until both were left gasping.

His teeth caught her lip, tugging then releasing with a flick of his tongue. His hands memorized her body, the shape of her chest, the curve of her waist, the wet heat between her thighs. " _You_ feel good."

"I imagine you do, too." There was a smirk in her eyes, a gasp in her breast as his thumb found her clit.

He made slow, _slow_ circles, watching her writhe, pushing her legs wide. His low-slung pants fell to the floor, and as another wild moan built in her throat, his fell upon her.

"Yes… _Ah-_ " Her fingers raked into his hair, his dug into her waist. Her hips rose to meet him, his collided with hers.

All the names he had for her _\- Kat, Katara, queen -_ mixed with curses in the hollow of her neck, the needy whispers juxtaposing the violent way he filled her. And on her lips was the taste of him, the never ending desire for him, the unrelenting cry for _more… more… more…_

It never took long for the tension to build, for the fire to light her skin and a lust-filled sweat to coat him, not when he possessed her like this. _Fast. Hard._ Like he'd never have enough of her no matter how many times, how many ways, how many days he _had_ her.

It never took long to reach that pinnacle, that peak, where her limbs shook with pleasure and her back arched and his name ripped from her tongue.

And it never took long for him to follow, to fall with her, to breathe fire and a thousand professions of love for her.

They were left panting, trembling, sated for the moment like all the times before. He trailed light pecks from her neck to her breast between quiet affirmations. She tickled ghosting fingertips down his back, repeating her love for him a hundred times over. They were still _. Content_. _For the moment._ It'd start again… their fever of kissing and teasing and clinging to the other… It always started again. _It never took long._


	6. Day 7: Candles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's out of order, I know. Coffee will come soon.

“You’re like the sun,” he murmured, his lips dusting her skin. His mouth was soft, his breath heated. It caressed her naked hips, like the flickers of candlelight, golden and bright, caressed him.

While raven crowned him and ivory cloaked him…  red, orange, and gold… those were the colors that embraced him. 

“I thought that was you.” 

“I only _touch_ the sun… taste its power and wield its warmth,” His hands traveled the curves of her waist, claiming her as his own. He mapped the valley of her breasts, the planes of her stomach, down… down… down. “But you, _you_ are the sun.” 

Her fingers curled into his hair, twisting and holding, like he could ever be as elusive and fleeting as dancing rays. “Tell me.” 

“The sun is irreplaceable.” He nipped just above her knee, then her thigh, tracing the length to the apex of her legs. “I need it like fire needs air.” 

_He was irreplaceable._ She longed for him, for his hands on her hips and his lips… her body arched against his, pleasure now kindling with the desire that coursed through her veins. Sprits above, he _was_ irreplaceable, and so was _this_. This lust he held for her… this ability to ignite her with one simple lap of his tongue…

“The sun is irrevocable.” He continued, inhaling her, tasting her, kissing a fiery path up her stomach to her chest. His words, like the ghosts of sunsets past, whispered over her heart. “I am bound to it… like the moon and the sea.” 

_He was irrevocable._ She could not deny him, could not fight the fire in her blood and the flame brought by his tongue… she tasted it now, with his mouth colliding into hers. And she counted one, two, three vertebrae before her fingers left his neck to claw down his back. 

“The sun is inescapable.” The candles flared with his breath, with his touch, with his name on her lips. His eyes burned, his skin burned, his touch burned… he burned _for her_. “Like a moth drawn to a candle’s flame.” 

He was marked by her, engrossed by her, possessed by her. 

_Yet, he was the one she could not escape._ The red, the red, the red… so much red about her, but it was always the gold. _That gold_ \- in his eyes, his hair, his home - that gold held her affixed. So long as it flickered, so long as it caught the light, her gaze, her gasp… she’d love him… So long as gold filtered from the heavens… _she’d love him._

For it wasn’t the gold around him that held her so, it was the gold in him. In his heart, his mind, and his soul. He was gold. He was pure. _He was hers._

And she was drawn to him. 

To the crescendo of their bodies burning with need. To the noise of her name befalling his lips. To the tangle of their limbs, the mess of the sheets, the sweat on his skin, the taste of his tongue between her teeth. To the heat and the fire and the gold that ran through him and poured into her, shattering her, blinding him.

She was drawn to it, _to him_ , to it all. Like a moth to a flame. 


	7. Day 6: Coffee

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Six months ago, she gave up coffee. She gave up a lot of things - tea of the caffeinated sort, wine, Tylenol, sushi - and tonight her body gave up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For myself… because I’m angry and hurting and dying over what can’t be and writing is therapeutic.

Six months ago, she gave up coffee. She gave up a lot of things - tea of the caffeinated sort, wine, Tylenol, sushi - and tonight  _her body_  gave up. One trimester to go and everything she’d done seemed to be for nothing and everything he did now  _was_ for nothing. He’d always been a survivor, a defender, a protecter… but in the moment, he was none of those because there was nothing left to fight for.

So much bleeding and screaming and  _pain._  It was over - that’s what her eyes said. That’s what his soul said. The doctor’s words still rang in his head, ‘ _Get her here now,_ ’ and in less than a minute his hope and excitement melted away to…

His wife’s breath caught in a hiss and Zuko glanced over from the driver’s side, a white knuckle grip on the wheel being the only indication of his own pain.  _Her pain was worse. Her pain was worse. Her pain was worse._ He’d repeat that until he believed it because he wouldn’t break down. He was  _not_ going to be weak when she needed him to be strong right now. 

When her eyes flared open, blindly staring through the windshield to the dark night, he took her hand atop her thigh, “Katara, are you okay?” 

_What a stupid question that was._

“I’ll survive,” was her response, and Zuko squeezed her fingers once before refocusing his attention on the hospital’s nearly vacant parking lot. 

_They had to survive._

* * *

It only took thirty minutes - the D&C procedure. Zuko was left pacing the waiting room of the Emergency ward while a women he’d known for six months took his wife, sedated her, and  _healed_ her as the medical community would say. Zuko felt like they were killing her… and him… and  _their daughter_ that’d never have the chance to breathe. 

 _‘The baby can’t be saved.’_ A ten minute examination and ultrasound had declared that much. The focus shifted to saving Katara, and only Katara. 

“Sir?” A nurse nudged his arm and Zuko turned, bleary-eyed, to look at her, “The procedure is complete. Your wife’s in recovery, if you’d follow me.”

_His wife. Not his wife and his child. Just his wife._

* * *

“What are the odds of this happening again?” Zuko took a peek down as the question left his lips, grimacing at his wife’s prone position on the hospital bed. Her hand was in his. Katara’s dark skin clashed elegantly with his own, but her fingers cold.  _So cold._ She looked stunned or scared or  _dead -_ he couldn’t decide which emotion took precedence on her tired facade. 

“The odds of it happening  _this_ time were incredibly slim,” Their OBGYN took the query in stride - practical, disciplined… sympathetic, but not emotional - she had to be distanced, like any other doctor in practice. “And… it’s nearly impossible to determine the cause. She’s not sick. There’s no uterine scarring or tearing and her cervix is healthy. Chances are, her hormones were im-”

“I’m right here! You don’t have to talk about me like I’m not here.” Katara snapped at them, and while the doctor look embarrassed, Zuko’s eyes softened. He could see it in her face - she wasn’t trying to fault him or them or anyone. He wanted answers because he was a fixer and she knew that. But her pain - _her emptiness_  - was something he’d never understand and if she needed to lash out, he’d be here to take it. 

“Love…” Zuko pinched his nose and sighed, his palms then landing on each side of her waist. He bent over the bed, his forehead resting on hers. Heavy blue eyes swam in tears, tears he wished he could prevent from spilling. “It’s okay.”

The doctor nodded an excuse, a condolence, prodding a nurse to find a wheel chair as she left to fill out Katara’s prescriptions. Zuko tried to ignore the scuffle of the woman leaving, but he wanted to scream.  _Fix this. Fix us._

Katara next breath was shaky, “We can try again. We can have tests done to make sure- to be posi-”

“Babe, it’s not your fault.” He could tell from the desperate way her fingers wrapped around his neck that she was  _begging_ her heart to believe him. “Let’s go home, okay? You need rest. Things will be brighter in the morning.” 

_Because time heals everything, right?_


End file.
